The Second Draconic Revolution
by Braindead123
Summary: The First Draconic Revolution was when Berk and its neighbors figured out to the fact that dragons could be more than bloodthirsty beasts. Sadly, not everyone got the message. It takes nothing less than an arrogant teen and a war to cause the Second Draconic Revolution. (Canon world is disregarded; Berk is a village in Norway). Rated M for language, death, and sexual references.
1. Góða veiði!

**TO MY SCANDINAVIAN READERS: In an effort to avoid any language snafus, I would really appreciate a consultant of sorts that I could talk to about language and name-related issues in Icelandic and Norwegian since I don't trust Google Translate. I'd appreciate a private message from anyone interested. I imagine it wouldn't exactly be a demanding job, just answer a question once in a while. Thanks a lot!**

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In the village of Drengur one must be of age 16 and not a day younger to become a career dragon hunter. The average lifespan was shorter back then than it is whenever you're reading this, or so I hope, so a boy was considered a man, or at least capable, slightly earlier. Average life spans were even shorter when your village is besieged by dragons on a nearly daily basis. We didn't know the dragons could be tamed. How could we have? What is now Iceland used to be nothing, not even named on most maps, an island completely isolated from the rest of the planet. I don't even think the common man knew of the land's existence. So that's why while the Draconic Revolution spread throughout most of Scandinavia, most of the Icelandic lands remained as backwards as ever... most of it.

I'm a writer. I've always been a writer. That's why you're reading this. And the reason I've always been a writer is because I've always had a love for history, even if the only one I knew was my own. So I wanted to leave my mark on the world by writing. When I began, I always intended to pass my journal onto my son and for him to pass it on to his son and ideally for the cycle to continue eternally. So consider this journal neither an accusation nor a confession nor an apology for any event that occurred or person who lived, but merely proof that he, she, it or I did. I chose writing because if life in Drengur has taught me anything, it's that dragon hunters' fame is fleeting, lasting only a generation if the killer was lucky.

But that didn't stop me from pursuing the career. I got no journal for a birthright, but receiving my own sword as an 11th birthday present was certainly nice. It was a short sword, though not for an 11-year-old, with almost no crossguard and a rather plain hilt, double-edged of course. That was the sword I used to train from then on in dragon combat. I wasn't pushed into the practice like Hiccup Haddock. When your village's population was dropping like the rain, you only wished the age for dragon training began earlier.

Also unlike Haddock, I excelled in training without the aid of his taming tactics. But then again, I wouldn't know how I performed against the real thing until I was 16. Straw dummies and human sparring partners weren't great preparation for the real thing, but I was still a badass at both. I wasn't strong - not that I was weak, either - but I was quick, agile and, most importantly, clever. To serve an example, during one particular sparring match my opponent had her sword above her head for a finish. She telegraphed the move, so I blocked it with my blade perpendicular to hers easily. But then I did something she didn't expect. I thrust my legs forward and allowed myself to fall down on my back. My opponent, still shoving her sword downwards brutishly, fell with me. Once my back was flat down I kicked the girl in the stomach and pushed her up and over me so that she'd land on her back in an involuntary somersault. When she landed, I rolled onto my front and shoved the flat of my blade against her neck, something she couldn't stop because of her surprise.

After a little bit of the silence of each of us taking in our respective positions - victory and defeat - I snickered, "Falling for me once wasn't enough?" before I gave her a little peck on the lips.

That was Elíza. Elíza was my girlfriend. Allow me to rephrase that: Elíza was my smoking hot as dragonfire girlfriend. Blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin, and athletically built. I suppose I'd wonder how on Earth I could have gotten a girl so out of my league... if she was actually out of my league. I mean, I wasn't vain. I was just self-confident. I could keep her. Hey, we just established I was a heck of a fighter.

Right about then I was lifted right off of Elíza by Geirbjörn (pronounced: GAYR-pyarn with rolled R's), the fight instructor. Unlike me, he was a brute of a guy. "Alright, Nikolas, enough of the mushy stuff," he grumbled as he then dropped thrust me forward. Lucky I fell on my feet. "Save that for after the main event. You've a week to go, remember?" That particular fight happened at age 15. Not by far, though. In a week I'd turn 16 and kill my first dragon.

Our "friends" in the east were total softies. True, they threw slightly younger boys and girls to the dragons, but, meh, it was always in cages with their trainer ready to step in and subdue the dragon. That's not how we did it in Dregnur. When you were physically able, you killed a wild dragon - not some domestic kitty-cat either bred or drugged to be killed. As well, anybody can train, but we have the killer instinct and natural inclination it takes to slay a dragon. Because if you don't, well, you're not in Dregnur. You're in Valhalla or Fólkvangr. The afterlife for those slain in combat. Remember Sparta in the Ancient Greek days? We weren't quite so warmongering as that, but we placed a big emphasis on the muscle over the mind.

Hey, every Viking did it.

"What can I say? I'm not dying soon, but if I were, I'd hate it if Elíza's last memory of me wasn't as vivid as possible," I cracked flirtatiously, to which I got a coy smile and a chuckle from her. Geirbjörn, unfortunately, wasn't so amused. Oh, well, the person who mattered was.

"Boy, don't you make me tell your fathers what you two are up to in the middle of the night!" Oh, yeah. I was even hitting that. Not that it was so impressive. To say that there was a goldmine of tail for a teen in Dregnur was an understatement. Anyone who thought sexual repression traditions were outdated would have to walk blind and deaf not to find the shimmering radiance of the goldmine - and even then may walk inside without meaning to. Of course, our backwards parents want us to have to suffer through the same repression we went through. I figured, hey, I was gonna marry Elíza eventually, so getting a head start on things wasn't hurting anybody, right?

Try not to mistake my intentions for her. Was she the most attractive creature on the face of the apparently round planet? Yes. Were she and I sexually crazed teens with raging hormones? ...no comment. But I loved her, too. From the cradle on she was my best friend. She really brought out the Nordic warrior in me. You know what I mean? She wasn't just my friend but my rival. She could beat me at anything, but I could beat her at anything, too, and competing with her made us both better at whatever we did, even if it was just being good people.

So, I wanted to marry her. That's what you do in that situation. I know she was all for it, and our parents surely had no issue with us two well enough-off folks tying the knot. Of course, we were young. We were too young. So even though we didn't go for every last tradition, damn, we weren't some crazy rebels! We had reputations to uphold!

Speaking of reputations, I had quite one myself. The whole week prior to the hunt's beginning I had been approached by strangers and been offered meat to bring along or supplies or offers for cheap arms and other gifts. The first dragon hunt was a major occasion, a rite of passage if you have yet to put that together for yourself. Only you and your trainer ventured out, but it was a villagewide affair in that it's tradition for the boy becoming a man to bring along a memento from each person in the village who had already passed the rite along with any friends and family who had not.

"Hey! Nikolas!" One random day walking down the street there was Ormur. I knew his name, and that was about it. I tried actively not to associate with him. He was just some farmboy with little interest in killing dragons. He wasn't even taking combat training! He was a dead man walking for when his own rite of passage came to pass. I tried not to pay him any mind, but he was insistent upon following me home, so at some point in the street - where there were witnesses, so I wouldn't kill the little bastard - I finally threw him a bone.

"Can I help you?"

"Hey! Just wanted to give you this before you go!" The boy was holding out something in his hands. A bow? "You don't have one of these, right?"

"Uh... no, I don't. Why?" I asked him cautiously, fearing the worst.

"Well, dragons fly, obviously, and your sword isn't much help if the dragon isn't stupid enough to get in arm's length. So here! Now you can shoot it out of the sky if it comes to that!" I waited to see how long it would take Ormur to take the bow back, but my patience broke before his persistence, so I picked it out of his hands... and then let it drop to the ground.

"You impudent little squirt!" I shouted at the boy, "A bow? Only a coward needs one of these in order to kill a dragon! If you don't want to feel the scales and guts splitting on either side of your blade, you're no warrior." I spat on the tool then. "Keep it."

Now, I'm not entirely sure you understand the full significance of what I did. It was pretty rude, yeah, but actually it was even more rude than you think. The memento is an expression of solidarity with your clansmen. To reject one is a show of great disdain and disrespect. Because of that, it's a good thing I had such disdain for the annoying little squirt and intended such disrespect, else I might have risked sending the wrong message.

Shit, I didn't mean to make the kid cry, though. I think he tried to be tough, but a swallow and a sniff gave away that he would as soon as I left. I'll confess to having felt pity and a little sympathy, but regret was not part of the equation. "Aww, come on, did you really have to do that?" Oh, man. Looked like Elíza was one of the witnesses. Boy, that backfired.

"No... no, I did not," I sighed. Let me tell you something about that girl Elíza: she had this look, hands on hips, head tilted a couple degrees to her left, eyebrows bunched but eyes no less wide open. I called it the you-fucked-up look, because when she gave it to you, you know you done fucked up, son. Right about then I was getting the you-fucked-up look, and I did not enjoy it. "Elíza, I'm sorry. This rite of passage, the stakes and risk are as high as the expectations, and all the pressure might be... getting to me a bit." You might not put it past me to lie to seem a bit less responsible for my actions, and that's okay. I wasn't above that. But lie to the love of your life? Uh, no. That's as much an oxymoron as a cuddly dragon.

"Don't you think you should be saying that to him?" Elíza inclined her head in the direction Ormur ran off, and her meaning was clear.

"Yeah. Yeah, I should. And I will. But Elíza, I'm kind of freaking out here." Odin damn that Elíza. Now she had forced me to open up emotionally, so I was going to punish her for it by making her suffer through that with me. She knew it, too, which is why she took my hand and pulled me over to the nearest bench, on which we both sat simultaneously. Looked like it was talking time. "I can defeat almost any opponent that comes my way as long as they're human," I began, "But dragons are a whole nother beast, it seems. Literally. They fly, they breathe fire, they don't think, they're without emotion and mercy... all of a sudden they don't seem like the game but the predator." I spoke the truth. I could feel my heart rate elevating just as I said it.

"Is my big man getting scawed of a wittwe dwagon?" Elíza briefly mocked. But after that she put her arm around me supportively. "Come on, you kick ass in the arena! Sure, you've never trained against a real dragon, but remember that fire catapult training Geirbjörn put us through?"

"You mean that sadistic game he played where he'd launch liquid fire at us and try to see who can go longest without getting burned? Supposed to imitate dodging the fireballs of dragons? Ha, I think Geirbjörn just liked watching us squirm." Those games were a bitter-sweet memory to me. Bitter because they scared the shit out of me, sweet because I always won.

"The point is, you feel like you haven't been training for this, but you have! We all have! You'll be fine." She then took my head in both her hands and pointed it at all the nameless faces conducting business around. "Look at that! Every single one of those men and women were sixteen-year-olds who did what you're about to do, hunt down and kill a dragon. Each one of them still probably has its head, too." Like any animal, there were multiple species of dragons. Technically killing any of them was a great feat for a first-timer, but some wre greater than others. A nightfury, for example, would be one hell of a catch. Unfortunately we usually needed advanced equipment like ballistae to handle them just because they were so damn fast, and that's definitely impractical to bring with you on an expedition. Besides, even with those nobody has ever been recording felling a nightfury. Something simple like the nadder, on the other hand, while satisfactory, would probably not endear you to the people if you were to make a bid for the clan chief or something. Almost everyone keeps the head of whichever dragon is their first kill, and many even get so personally attached to it - or respect the dragon it once belonged to so much - that they named it.

Weirdos. Naming a dragon? Yeah, right.

"I guess they did," I conceded to Elíza. "Thing is... a monstrous nightmare might show up. I'd hate to have to break a sweat just for a wall ornament!" That was a joke, as evidenced by a chuckle and smirk I made after the fact. But I felt good enough to joke, and that was something. We were dragon killing people, like Elíza said. It's what we did, it's what our ancestors had been doing for hundreds of years prior. It was in my blood. I was feeling confident after that, and I stood up to signify that I was sure no dragon would ever best me! "Thanks a lot, Elíza."

We stood, hugged, kissed, and went our separate ways then. No surprise, it slipped my mind to apologize to Ormur. Oh, well. He'd get over it. Besides, I had bigger priorities. Tomorrow, Geirbjörn and I would be setting out on the Icelandic tundra wilderness in search of a dragon to strike down. "Alright, what do I need..." I thought as I packed my bag. "Obviously my sword! I'd better keep my good boots on hand, too. Shit, I gotta look for my heaviest coat... tomorrow morning, that is..." Of course, not all the items were so functional. I also had to take the mementos I accepted, like Elíza's necklace bearing a piece of metal formed in the shape of a dragon wing (she was the smith's daughter). I didn't pack that away, though. I went ahead and put it on.

Despite my girlfriend's talk, my night was restless. When I slept, it was for very few minutes that felt like years of torture as they happened. My dreams were uneasy. If a nadder wasn't chewing on my legs, that was because a gronkle was trying to yank off my arm. If a gronkle wasn't playing tug-of-war with my arm, that was because a monstrous nightmare - how appropriately named in this case - was just sinking its teeth into either side of my face, giving me a closeup view of the inside of its throat. If the monstrous nightmare was leaving me alone, that was probably because it wanted to stay out of the line of fire of the nightfury. Unfortunately, the nightfury was so fast and so precise that my body was burned well past the point of recognition and identification before Geirbjörn could even turn around and realize I wasn't following him. My life was snuffed out like a lamp fire several times that night.

And then I woke up early enough in the morning that the sun was too lazy to show up yet. That was okay, though; I should have awoke no later anyway. That brute Geirbjörn was just knocking on the door. "You ready to go, lad?" he asked through it.

An exhausted groan was the response he got before I figured I'd get yelled at for that. "Yeah, be right out... I slept like shit," I defended myself as I stood, took my fur jacket off the wall, put it on, and slung my bag over my shoulders. After that I took up my belt and sword off the ground to wrap it around my waist. Well... no going back now.

There was a little snowfall that morning, but nothing major. Not enough to cancel the expedition, anyway. But damn, was it freezing cold! I was glad I found that coat. Lucky the snow made a dragon easy to track. They were cold-blooded creatures, we figured, so the cold weather would make them sluggish and lacking in energy. We thought that was why the beast we were tracking made such sloppy mistakes as walking rather than flying. It was probably just too lethargic to fly, we thought. Well, I thought. Geirbjörn was really just there to bear witness. This was my crusade.

That line of thought essentially died as soon as we stumbled upon a great oval shape of disturbed snow. "Whoa. Now that's a strong flyer," I remarked aloud, "If it can make a takeoff wind with that kind of radius. And it can't be a nadder or a nightmare. This thing is definitely a quadruped. I'm thinking a zippleback. A sufficient prize, I suppose."

And I ventured on. As the hours passed the snowfall got heavier, but there was no going back now. I drew my sword then, as the environmental disadvantage had me uneasy. "...at least a nightfury can't easily see me from above in this weather," was how I comforted myself. I honestly thought that was the scariest part of my nightmares, even moreso than the actual nightmare dragon part. A nightfury, that wasn't something you could fight. That was something you could hope to survive, and that was about it.

The snow was starting to get a bit blinding by then. Okay, make that a lot blinding. Blinding enough to walk over the crest of a steep hill and not realize the next step I took wasn't to ascent but to descend. Because I was carrying so much weight, I couldn't regain my balance, and the slope was so steep that I began to tumble forward. I heard Geirbjörn call after me in concern, but by the time he got the last syllable of my name out it sounded more like an echo than directly from the source. Shit, there I was thinking it would be a dragon who did me in, but so far the evidence was looking toward me falling to my death.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed after some seconds as I fell again. Yes, again, as in more than once. First down a slope, and then the second time straight down. I fell into some kind of hole? Yep, definitely a hole. Some snow collapsed right below me and formed a hole down which I fell, oh, twenty feet? Lucky the snow I fell on was a little harder, lucky because if it wasn't, I would have fallen right through it and hit solid ground rather than have my fall cushioned a bit. "Ah, fuck!" I spat after being dazed wore off. So, I took in my new surroundings. The place was surprisingly roomy for a roughly dug hole in the ground. A den of some sort? The snow above must have been to camouflage the entrance or something, I thought, because the inside was spotless. Climbing out on the walls was definitely not an option; they were too smooth, and as they went up they curled inwards, like a teardrop shape if you took a cross section.

I had bigger problems than escape, though; during the tumble I had lost my coat and my gloves. Looking up, the weather looked no more welcoming. Even if I did escape I would freeze in hours if not minutes. Yet if I remained in the den, I'd be warmer but at the mercy of whatever it belonged to. Well, at least I still had my sword. But man, I really hoped it was something like a wolf. Maybe a bear if I wasn't so lucky. Anything but a-

Oh, look at that. A dragon landed above after a couple hours of being stuck with myself down there. Oh, well, what was I gonna do? Kill it? Maybe if it had arrived two-and-a-half hours earlier. But warm as the den was by comparison, I was still curled up in a ball on the den floor and rubbing my bare arms like I had been trying to start a fire with them - which I might have almost welcomed - just to survive. I was in no position to stand and fight. Hell, I was hardly in a position to just stand. So, shamefully, all I was in a position to do was cower.

The dragon peered its head down through the hole, likely because it should have still been camouflaged by the snow. The dragon was... strange. Unfamiliar. I'd seen countless diagrams and portraits painted of almost every dragon that could be found on the island, studied them intensely. But the face of that dragon, I didn't recognize it. I didn't think I had ever seen blacker scales before that moment. Ah, great, I thought, a dragon species I know nothing about. No way I can fight that in my condition.

I knew I was a dead man walking as the dragon deftly used its claws to climb down the wall of its den, a feat I couldn't accomplish without long, sharp talons. Well, more like a dead boy laying. It was so dexterous and quick in the way it moved that it reminded me of myself fighting. Only, you know, better. And so when it reached the ground and leaned its head over me to examine me, my pupils grew to the size of dinner plates, my heart started to beat more quickly than any dragon could fly, and I began to hyperventilate, the exhales during which produced that visible fog breath.

The eyes of the creature were unexpectedly intelligent. I could imagine a firestorm of thought raging behind them, like the creature was judging me on criteria other than how long would be the ideal time to cook me. Strange, it was as calming as it was eerie. I guess I didn't make a great visual impression, because the dragon thought I required a second round, one of sniffing. It started at my shivering feet and made its way up my shivering legs only after intense scrutiny. And let me tell you, with its face and mouth so close to my exposed body, I wasn't just shivering because of the cold anymore.

The dragon's wiggling, curious snout worked its way past my legs relatively quickly, though, in relation to the time it spent examining my midsection. Particularly my chest area. Did it smell something that interested it, or was it just wondering where that annoyingly loud and rapid thumping sound was coming from? Either way I guess it didn't find what it was looking for even after several minutes.

The numbness had gone by then to be replaced with pain that ironically reminded me of having my whole body set on fire, a fate I thought I'd soon experience anyway. The dragon took its time, though, seemingly uncaring. So now, we come to the face. Ever had the tip of your nose make direct contact with the snout of a wild dragon? It's not an experience I'd recommend for the faint of heart. I mistook each little wiggle of its snout for its mouth opening to dig its teeth right into my neck. I thought the dragon was getting frustrated with me by then, because it started to make some annoyed garbles and warbles, or whatever the heck you can call those sounds.

Extra frightening was when the beast began to inspect the back of my neck. The difference between that and my face was that it could still kill me swiftly yet painfully at any time. The good news was, it didn't look like I would have to experience that. It looked like I'd black out from the cold yet burning pain before the dragon decided it was hungry enough for undercooked meat. Yep, I was right. The dragon was still sniffing me as tunnel vision closed in and turned to no vision, no sense whatsoever, really. My last emotion? Regret that the last thing Elíza had ever seen me do was probably one of the lowest points in my life up to that point. Sorry, Elíza... I don't think Ormur will be getting that apology.


	2. Keep your enemies closer

I don't know how long I had been steadily fading in and out of consciousness. I couldn't see the sun. Heck, I could barely look up. Most of the time I could barely move. It couldn't have been more than a couple days; I would have died from hunger and thirst if that was so. Yet it also couldn't have been less than several hours, because I know at the end of the ordeal that I didn't arrive home the same day that I left. All I really know for sure is what I saw and what I heard.

What I saw was usually blurry, and unless it was somehow important wouldn't remember what I saw all the way through the next time I came to. So, here's what I did remember: I was relieved to learn that the meat I had packed with me interested the dragon much more than my meat did; somehow it managed to open my bag and spill the meat all over the floor, and it would be eating it off the ground when it wanted a snack. I was turned onto my front, and the bag was ripped off my shoulders in order to get to the food. I suspected then that was what the dragon had been sniffing for.

And then I passed out again. Many times. Eventually I realized it was really strange that throughout the whole time the dragon had barely moved. It was laying its entire weight down on top of me, and it took me a long while to figure out why. Was it keeping me captive to be dinner later? That theory was debunked when around dinner time, for me at least, I was starving as shit, but the dragon sleeping on top of me - yes, sleeping - decided it wasn't hungry enough to eat yet.

I was, but I knew all the possible consequences of eating raw meat. Oh, well. It was the only food I could reach - and I had to reach, because there was no getting out from under the dragon's weight. So I ate some of it. Yuk! But at least it kept me alive. I briefly wondered what happened to Geirbjörn before I went out again.

At some point I was glad to be stuck under the unidentified dragon. As I started spending more and more of my time conscious, my thoughts became more clear and logical. So I realized that, ironically, the dragon was my lifeline. It was keeping me warm. That was the day I realized dragons do indeed create their own body heat by utilizing the fire in their bellies. The only warm cold-blooded creature. Ironic, right? Oh, well, worked for me! But if it generated its own body heat, why was it sleeping through the day? The cold couldn't have been it, and I knew of no dragons that hibernated like bears.

So, I concluded, the beast was nocturnal. It was early morning when I fell into its den, and it likely wouldn't awaken until darkness fell or slightly before that. And once it did, who knew what its behavior would be? I ate a lot of the meat I brought, and so did it. Would what remained satisfy its breakfast, or would that be it for me?

When I went out again the dragon's head was right beside mine, eyes closed. When I came to again, its eyes were open. "Gyah!" I yelped. That was it, I had to get away. So I tried my best to scramble out from under the dragon, but then the beast made its first conscious effort to make sure I didn't escape by wrapping its forelegs around my midsection and pulling me into itself. I might have mistaken the gesture for a hug if it wasn't so restricting. "Hey! Get off me!" I cried out desperately.

That didn't seem to do much. The dragon just held on tighter. But then here was the weird part: it stopped. It climbed off from on top of me and stood, at which point I did the same. I drew my sword, then and held it out defensively in front of me, facing the dragon. The beast crouched, but while it could have fired a shot and taken me out instantly, it didn't. And is doubted that it was just too stupid, too. Dragons were dim, I thought, but they didn't pass up any chance to kill.

I still squared off against the dragon for several minutes, but I became a little less tense after each one. So did it. Weird. It wasn't really acting like a vicious killer. The dragon was being more... defensive? Well, if I struck I would have been obliterated before making contact. So, the clever mind I was blessed with tried another solution.

I sheathed my sword and sat down. Risky as that was, it was ironically the least risky move, I thought. There were at least ten feet between me and the dragon's head. The chance of survival in combat was 0%. But if I surrendered, or appeared non aggressive, or whatever, the chances of survival were so close to 0% that they might as well have been, but the odds were still that teeny little bit better. For good measure I also removed my belt with the sword on it and slid it close to the dragon.

The beast growled and jumped back from the sword, but at some point after a sniff inspection it seemed to realize that a sword without an arm to swing it wasn't very dangerous. So it stepped around the sword, notably, not over it, to come back up to me and sniff me again. I didn't get what he expected my scent to tell it, but that was sure important to the creature.

As I consented to the secondary scrutiny, I started shivering again. It was just so cold, I couldn't _not_ shiver. So the beast made some sort of warble noise and circled around me, giving me its warmth again. Only about three quarters of the way, though. I jolted a little when its tail closed around my front and pulled me in like its paws had done before, but when the black dragon looked me in the eye... ironically enough I didn't feel endangered.

The dragon was defensive before, not aggressive.. And when I wasn't a threat it was sharing its heat with me? It was, like, hugging me with its tail. So I tried something somewhat risky. I held out my hand toward the dragon's head, palm flat and facing upward and to the side. Why? Because I feared that appearing to go over, under, or past its head would be too forward. What I did was _invite_ the dragon to my hand if it so decided. Letting it be in charge seemed to be working so far. Why break that streak?

I don't think the dragon was aware of what I wanted at first, but it did humor me by sniffing the hand. Again. Maybe it was just curious or, like me, experimenting, because it then did what I wanted: placed its cheek against my hand. Success! Since I was touching it already I thought I'd try softly stroking it under the chin, but slowly and cautiously so I could pull my hand back at the first sign of hostility.

Oh my gods, those scales were so smooth. They were like an even sheet of ice without the cold. I was amazed by the texture just because it was so soft, something that seemed to contrast with a dragon's rough nature. The experience was actually... pleasant. I guess the dragon thought so, too, because its eyes drooped a bit, it warbled a little more, and it actually pushed its head a bit into my hand. I had to push back to keep my hand from moving away.

"C-c-crazy..." I thought. Aloud. I didn't stutter in my thought. I stuttered aloud because I was cold. I continued petting the dragon, around the cheeks, and even a little over its head and past the ridges that separated its head from its neck. Oh, yeah, it was loving the attention. I was, too, actually. Sure, it went against everything I believed in, but, I dunno. All of a sudden the creature didn't seem so dumb and bloodthirsty.

I couldn't exactly spend the rest of my life cuddling with a dragon, though. I looked up and, yep, that hole got no closer to the ground than it had been when I fell in. "Damn..." I cursed to myself. I didn't think it would inexplicably shrink, mind you, but I didn't think the dragon would help me get-

Scratch that. The dragon must have followed my gaze and understood my body language. That was my best guess, anyway, because it uncoiled itself from around me and crouched low in front of me instead, unmoving. Now, that body language was unmistakeable. "No way..." I muttered softly. I could ride a horse like nothing, but a _dragon_? Had anyone ever been _stupid_ enough to try that before? Because I sure wasn't keen on being the first!

Boy, wouldn't that be an embarrassing tombstone engraving?

Still, it was that, or hope the kind black dragon would keep me fed, watered, and warm for my lifetime beyond then. Remember earlier, when I chose the lesser of two risks? Well, the dragon stomped its foot, flicked its tail, and huffed its annoyance as insistence upon mounting it. I decided that not annoying the fire-breathing lizard was the lesser of two risks. I took up my belt and pack first, though.

I found out very quickly, mounting a dragon was very different from mounting a horse. A horse didn't have wings and ridges on it's back that restricted where you could sit. One bad bump while sitting on dragonback... And those ridges would mean Elíza would be better off finding another man. Yet I couldn't sit very far forward past the wings, else I'd be on its neck. So, here's what I had to do: I didn't sit on the dragon so much as lay down on it. My legs extended down past the wing joints and gripped the dragon's sides with my knees and feet. I don't think he minded much. My hands were able to wrap around the base of his neck. I tried not to strangle him, but I still needed enough grip to not fall off. I guess it was light enough not to bother him, because he then spread his wings.

Oh, shit. I wanted off right then! Well, too bad for me. The beast sprang up against a wall and pushed off it, leaving him - and me - momentarily upside-down until he did a 180 flip to right himself. After that he flapped his wings once and we soared up out of the hole and way higher! I put us at about 45 meters up, but don't quote me on that. At least it didn't last long. The dragon then softly glided down to the ground, something I was relieved for. I didn't like being at his mercy and gravity's alone. But shit, I was right about the dragon I was tracking being a hell of a flapper! Adding in the underground, the dragon climbed about 50 meters with one wing flap!

I was only finally able to breathe again when the dragon landed. "Well, okay... that happened!" I sat up a bit, pat the dragon's shoulder a couple times, and prepared to dismount. _Nope!_ The dragon took back off again, and the snowy ground was out of my reach before I could even blink. With each flap of the wings the dragon's body pushed up against mine, which made me fly up a bit in turn. Good thing I don't lose my grip! I did lose my bearings, though. What the hell was the creature doing?

And then it happened. A wing flap sent me flying not upwards but straight ahead forwards! Whoa, my new friend was so fast that any arrow would be envious! I kind of had to exclaim, "Whooooooooooah, man!" as soon as the the wind caught my hair and tore it back. I found out then I was right to lay down flat; if I didn't I would have been blown right off by the air alone, grip or no grip! But if I lay down, a lot of the air resistance was gone because the wind blew right over me.

I thought I identified the dragon then. Its scales were black as as black as black got. Its speed was unmatched by anything on earth capable of motion. It did most of its sleeping during the day - by the time we were in the air, the sun was almost finished landing. It seemed insane, mad, crazy, all those good synonyms, but I could think of only one dragon species this could be.

My life had been saved by a nightfury.

I had made friends with a nightfury.

I had touched a nightfury.

I had sat on the back of a nightfury.

I was _riding_ a freakin' _nightfury!_ So... Yeah. I fell into the den of the most dangerous, elusive, and deadly dragon currently known to mankind, snuggled up with it for the day, had dinner with it, pat it a little, and ended up riding through the sky on top of it.

"So, uh... Where are we going?" I shouted over the wind at the dragon. The nightfury, mind you. Well, this nightfury may have been more partial to humans than most, but I guess it didn't like me enough to answer me when I spoke to it yet. Oh, well. What was I gonna do, jump off its back? Nah, I was kind of in it for the whole ride whether I liked it or not. But quickly enough I got my answer.

It took hours of walking to stop seeing smoke rise from chimneys. It took maybe 20 minutes of flight to see it again. Yeesh, why didn't everybody travel by dragon? ...oh, right. But really, it was great! You'd think I would have been frightened but, well, no! I somehow found it in me to trust thy the dragon meant me no harm, and when I did that I felt like I was king of the air. King of the dragons, even! Ha, yeah, right, but still, flight was exhilarating! There went the myth that humans couldn't fly!

I was a little nervous when the nightfury began descending over the village. It didn't seem crazy that he knew of its location when dragons raided the place all the time. But, well, that was just it. Dragons raided villages. They'd eat our livestock or our people if our livestock was too well-protected. My first fear was that the nightfury may engage in such mischief, but oddly enough he was well-behaved enough to be content with dropping me off just on some random street.

That was when my second fear kicked in. We had scouts. Nobody expected any sort of human invasion, mind you, but they were ever watchful for dragons - and damn good at their jobs, too, the nightfury and I didn't even have time to touch down before the alarm bells started ringing all over. To me they were deafening, but nothing new. To my winged friend, they were quite frightening. Beneath me he began to shift and stir under me, and I thought the idea if an agitated - or worse, panicked - dragon was not a pleasant one.

I probably risked both life and limb to hop off the beast and try to calm him, but I risked more by not. "Hey, easy, bud!" I tried to shout over his growls. I held out and a hand and slipped it over its head in an attempt to keep him from flailing about so much. "Shhhhhhhh..." That was soft and drawn out over several seconds, constantly decreasing in volume. I did it that way because it was how my mother would calm me whenever I needed it.

The nightfury snapped at my hand, but... I dunno. I didn't yank it back even though I saw the bite coming, so there was no reason for the beast to have missed unless it meant to. But it missed. All it bit was air. "I need you to be calm for me." I didn't have the option of speaking softly, else my voice would never be heard over those alarm bells that disturbed the night air. But I did try to speak in a low pitch and calming tone, like talking to a skittish horse, hoping that the same would apply. "You saved me. I guess it's my turn."

We were often told that what separated humans from dragons was our honor. If you tell your neighbor you'll make him a new sword for skreith, but you take his skreith and refuse or are unable to provide a sword, you will usually feel bad about it. I hope you will, anyway. So if you were wondering why I didn't strike the dragon dead as soon as I got the chance - I certainly had one now, at least - that was why. You didn't cheat your neighbor, you didn't beat your wife, and you didn't bite the hand that fed you. Even if it was a paw.

I did draw my sword, though. A lone, grounded dragon in Dregnur could expect a short life expectancy, and the executioners were just piling into the street then. I turned away from the dragon and toward the crowd of warriors pouring toward us. "Hold! I'll personally slash the throat of any man or woman so dimwitted as to spill a drop of dragon's blood tonight!"

Yeah, you try and tell at an aggro raging Viking horde. Let's see if you get them to stop. I didn't. The nightfury sure did, though. "No!" I cried out as it loosed a fire shot over my head and at the crowd. Now, here was something weird: one thing nightfuries are not only the fastest, but the most precise dragon known. Even flying at speeds of holy-shit kilometers per hour they never missed. Ever. Yet my dragon friend didn't kill a single attacker. His shot landed in front of the crowd, which only then came to a slow halt - slow because lots of the Vikings behind those who saw the fireball wanted to keep running.

"Nikolas! What on earth do you think you're doing?" A familiar voice exclaimed. The uneasy crowd parted a bit to make way for my uneasy father, mother in tow and bow drawn. "Get away from that dragon!"

Making the point that the dragon was no threat was much harder when it wouldn't stop growling after it just shot a fireball. "Father, don't shoot!" I commanded, not asked. "Nobody shoot, nobody move! And somebody, send the order to _shut up those damned bells_!"

"Nikolas...!"

" _Drop the bow!_ Drop the thrice damned bow or I'll come cut your hand off!" Father didn't budge, but neither did I. So it came down to this. He let loose the arrow, and in that moment to me my own father was no different from a dragon. Or, maybe I shouldn't say that. A dragon showed kindness and compassion to a stranger.

No wonder they raided and killed us.

When I acted, it was really on reflex. I didn't know what I wanted to accomplish when I swung my sword. It wasn't like I would hit the arrow, right? Well... wrong. In that moment my arm moved more quickly than I had ever seen it move, and the blade of the sword my father once gave me slashed through the arrow just behind its head. The wood separated from the arrowhead, and with less inertia the arrowhead landed harmlessly at the feet of the nightfury. Holy shit! Did I seriously just do that?

That question was shared by the other villagers. Only that display finally settled the crowd a little. Even the bell ringers were surprised enough to drop the noise, which went a great distance toward calming the dragon. "You just hand to land right in the middle of the village, didn't you?" I scolded him. It's not like he could understand me, but that made _me_ feel a bit better. "Father, put away the bow. I can explain. Anyone else-"

 _Twang!_ There was another bowshot, but it didn't come from the crowd. A roof archer! Lucky I was quick enough to slice that arrow, too. "For _fuck_ 's sake!" My voice was going hoarse from the intensity of my yelling. "What kind of coward shoots a grounded dragon causing no harm, huh? Do I have to kill the next moron before the order to stand down gets through your thick skulls?" I meant that. I'd kill my own clansmen if it came to that just for a dragon. But _not_ coming to that would still be better.

"Who are you to give anybody orders, boy?" taunted some random crowd voice.

"I'm someone who knows better than you, so shut your _fucking_ mouths long enough to hear my words!" I shouted my story to all who would listen - and advised hecklers to either come challenge me, keep quiet, or return home. As I spoke I had to keep patting my scaly friend's shoulder to keep him from freaking out. Forget the Vikings; a riled up dragon helped me no more.

"You are all dragon killers. But I've accomplished something that none of you could _ever_ do," I concluded. "So let the dragon leave in peace." I refrained from identifying my friend as a nightfury. They didn't need another reason to kill him. "There'll be plenty of time to kill him if he-"

 _Bam!_ Another shot interrupted me. Not from an arrow, though. That was a fireshot.


	3. Félagi

The alarm bells began to ring again, and all hell pretty much broke loose. That fireshot didn't come from my scaly savior, but from above. Looked like a gronkle. I guess Mr. Blackscales wasn't happy the dragon chose me as its target because he then reared back and shot back at the gronkle. Forget his flight speed; that nightfury's shot was so fast and hot that the air shimmered and waved behind the flame as it struck the gronkle, who plummeted down into the ocean. It was a good thing he did that, because the villagers were about ready to have his head again. Now they were once more unsure of themselves.

Unfortunately, that wasn't a lone gronkle. Shit, it was a whole pack! Dragons of all species covered the night sky and blacked out the stars. Most of them landed and started descending wherever they could find a farm before beginning to chow down on any growing food and livestock they could get their grubby paws on. "Kill the dragons!" a viking roared, the by then the crowd grew into a frenzy none could possibly have calmed. I had to agree with it this time, though. You don't stand around and talk during a dragon raid. We were Vikings! Vikings fight!

"Stay out of the line of fire!" I commanded the nightfury before I smacked his side hard to try and make him take off. I didn't think he actually understood either order, but at the very least he did indeed take to the air. His blackness took him from my sight, so I didn't see where he went, but if it wasn't here, that was fine by me. From there, it was all about following the old drill. Only now that I was 16, I wouldn't be sheltered away in the basement of the nearest home. It was my duty to fend off the raiding horde, and fend off I would!

We Vikings aren't big on that little thing called 'strategy.' Sure, we had a few battlefield tactics and tricks, like berserking, when a group of Vikings on the front lines would strip off their clothes and run at the enemy ranks like wild animals. Ha, classic Viking. And yeah, we had something resembling a chain of command, I guess. But all that was good for was the for the chief ordering the captains to order the lieutenants to order the sergeants to order all soldiers to attack. And we really didn't need the order to attack.

I let out the fiercest battle cry that a sixteen-year-old could loose as I charged for the farms with the rioting Vikings, sword held high and voice drowned out by the hundreds of others. Now, since Vikings weren't big on organization, the riot pretty much turned into a bunch of little individual skirmishes. It really wasn't some noble or heroic struggle to reclaim our home territory from invaders. The fighters were all just blinded by rage.

So, once my own battle readiness splintered along with the charging crowd, I was kind of alone and isolated. Gee, thanks, guys. I didn't know which way to turn, which dragon to attack, which farm to protect. All I could really do was look onward at the struggle. Yes, I regret to inform you that in the heat of battle I froze. I was watching, though, and what I saw appalled me. Fire met flesh, sword met scale, and howls of pain from both sides began to permeate and saturate the air.

What appalled me more were the fireballs raining down from the air. They were so fast that they whistled on their way down, and when they hit a building would be blown apart. Oh, gods, when one near me blew up I lifted my head to the skies and, while I apparently couldn't identify a nightfury by sight up close, I was plenty familiar with nightfuries raining hell down upon us from above. Right up there, passing below the stars, a nightfury had taken command of the sky and was wreacking havoc on my village and my people. Oh, gods, I couldn't believe it. Seriously? When we had just started to become friends? I should have known no dragon could be trusted!

At least I didn't get much time to stew on it. Out of nowhere, one head of the zippleback breathed a cloud of its noxious gas, and I could hardly breathe. But I knew that wasn't my biggest issue; in the next 2-5 tenths of a second the other head would surely light the cloud and set it all off on fire at once, trapping me in a cloud of fire. At least that death was a quick one, but I liked the idea of no death better. I wasted enough time to cry out, "Oh, fuck!" before diving forward to get out of the cloud.

Here's the good news: I lived. But the cloud ignited quickly enough that the back of my neck got hit. "Agh!" I exclaimed as I rolled over and held it. Cool, my first dragon battle wound! Not so cool, I was stupid enough to roll over onto my back and look the zippleback in the eye, which just spurred it on. I think other dragons liked the idea of wounded prey, too, because soon enough two nadders flanked me, clicking their jaws in anticipation for the kill. Shit, it was just like my nightmares! The only thing that stopped them from finishing me there was a whistling sound. Oh, fuck, another fire shot was about to rain down right on me! Was this my punishment for daring believe even for a moment that there were good dragons?

No, maybe I was getting a second chance. I didn't see what hit the bullet of fire that made it explode prematurely, but it happened far enough from the ground that it didn't affect me. What was that? An arrow? A catapult rock? A ballista bolt? Air turbulence? Oh, well, the most important thing was that it happened. I guess the nightfury got frustrated with missing, though, because for the first time that I knew of Vikings witnessed a nightfury descend to the ground.

The beast's roar was deafening and commanding... and it made a viking chieftain's battle cry sound like a kitten's mewl. The other three dragons backed off, and the nightfury crouched over me, pupils dilated and teeth bared, ready to rip my throat right out. I guess I pushed my luck with that dragon too far. What had I been thinking earlier, choosing a dragon over my own people? It must have been the near-death mentality addling my brain, but now that I was staring death in its scaly face all over again my thoughts were clearer and lucid than they had ever been.

I couldn't find any of the caring and compassion in the nightfury's eyes no matter how long I stared and how long I searched them. That wasn't the gentle giant I knew, but a vicious killing machine. They all were, every last one. Me, I should have died out on the tundra, but I supposed then was as good a time as any, so, I made my peace. I didn't struggle or fight the dragon off. It was only right for my weakness and lapses in judgement to be wiped from the world. I got the confirmation or that as soon as the nightfury lunged and I felt the tips of its teeth just touch my neck such a small fraction of a second before my death that I was lucky to feel them at all.

Then it released me tumbled onto its right side for seemingly no reason whatsoever. Had I been saved by a Viking? I didn't think so. I looked to my own right, the nightfury's mirror, and saw no human attacker. All I laid eyes on was... another nightfury? I shook my head, but nope, the nightfury was still there. When it leaned forward and opened its mouth I knew what was coming, but _damn,_ that roar was a _shit_ ton louder than the roar from the first nightfury! My ears hurt and rang even though they were covered! Now I was confused. Was the pair of nightfuries about to fight over a slab of meat?

No, it didn't look that way. The second nightfury lunged at the first, and the first one preferred to take off and flee rather than fight for its food. So, that left me stuck on my back beneath the second, apparently much more aggressive nightfury. Oh, joy. Like the first it crawled over me and eyed me, but though it acted no less tense I noticed its teeth weren't bared. His snout did close in, though. I flinched, but it was only to find the creature was just sniffing me. "No way..." I thought aloud. Well, there was only one true test.

I reached out and pat the scaly creature on top of his head. He shut his eyes and warbled contently. Oh, man... all of a sudden I felt extremely guilty for all the hateful and untrue things I thought about dragons just before he saved me. I almost wanted to cry, but there were bigger issues at hand. I stood. The dragon let me, which just further proved he was my friend. It looked like most of the dragons that didn't flee were being slaughtered by the remaining Vikings as I watched. The problem was, a nightfury was still wreacking havoc from the skies. I watched ballista after ballista, arrow after arrow fire at the beast and wind up short. Even though just three or four other dragons remained on the ground, we were still getting slaughtered.

The good nightfury and I exchanged looks at the same time. We knew what we had to do. But I knew, more importantly, what I had to do. Yes, kill the enemy nightfury, obviously, but there was something else as well. There was only one farm I knew of that grew barley in the village, and boy was I glad I ended up on that one. There was something I needed there. So I made a break for the house on the property and prayed I'd get there before the airborne nightfury obliterated it.

The door was locked. Oh, well. That was only sensible. I would just have kick it open! "Owwwwww!" I cried out as I rolled my ankle on the unyielding door. Nope, I guess our metalsmith was too good. That door wouldn't open... so I thought. But good luck finding a door that could stand before the shoulder charge of a dragon with a running start. The occupants screamed in terror as the dragon knocked their door in, but I just shouted "Thanks!" as I ran past him and inside. I made a beeline for the underground basement as I prayed under my breath that what I needed would be there.

It was. "Ormur!" I exclaimed when I reached the stairwell bottom. Yep, there he was with his younger sister. I didn't remember her name, but who cares? "Ormur, man, am I glad to see you! Do you still have it?"

I couldn't blame the kid for being afraid of me. Besides being a complete arse to him the morning before last, I did kind you know, sic my dragon on his poor, defenseless front door. "N-Nikolas?"

"The bow, Ormur! I need your bow! Where is it?" Ormur's eyes darted around, and I heard him whimper a little bit. Man, the poor guy probably thought I was just picking on him by then, but at the very least that fact made him scramble to the back of the room to grab the bow and even a quiver to go with it. Good call. There was only one problem.

"Do you have any more arrows? This one only has two." Ormur just shook his head wide-eyed, likely hoping I wouldn't knock his lights out for that. Okay, so I grumbled and growled a little over having only two arrows, but two was still infinitely times better than zero. So I shouldered both the bow and quiver before sprinting back outside. "Hey, big guy!"

I guess we were on the same page because my dragon friend crouched and stood side-on to me. "Stretch those wings, félagi! It's still my sixteenth birthday, and I'm not crossing the threshold of my home without a dragon's head!" I declared defiantly, using the old word for 'friend' or 'partner,' before mounting the good nightfury just as I had done the first time. He bellowed his challenge to the sky and the dragon currently ruling it before ascending like the rightful king of the sky to the throne he deserved.

As soon as my ariel steed set off in pursuit of the enemy nightfury, I drew Ormur's bow. However, a few weaknesses in my battle plan became apparent pretty quickly: the bow required two hands to shoot, two hands that really should have been hanging on to the dragon. Even if I managed to sit up, I was a mediocre shot at best talking about still targets on the ground. A moving, flying target - a swift nightfury, no less - from dragonback? Forget about it! That was assuming I even managed to take a shot, of course; I couldn't sit up or I'd be thrown by the wind, so I had to take the shot lying down. All in all this added up to me having two chances at shooting a very elusive target from above in the prone position while my friend flew steady with very little prior practice while gripping only with my knees.

You try just getting that shot, let alone making it. Let's see how that goes for you.

The good dragon roared at the other nightfury as we caught up to it. I guess he didn't like being ignored. But in a stunning display of aerobatics, that nightfury flew upwards and back behind us in a half-circle sort of motion. Whoa! That's when it finally sank in just how out of my element I _really_ was. The ride to the village was easy, just for transport, but this was dragon-on-dragon combat, and the patterns of flight would reflect that.

My winged friend had to prove his own aerial prowess when our foe launched a stream of fire at us. Whoa, man! That was scary, but it wasn't as scary as the flip in the air and lateral dodge my friend executed to save us both from it. I had wondered what sort of advantage that dragon hoped to gain by being behind us, but now I saw it could easily attack without fear of counterattack while all we could do was dodge.

That's all we did for a while. I couldn't stand being unable to strike back, but I wasn't about to try a 180 and shoot! My dragon tried his own maneuver, though. It started with the half-circle flip the hostile nightfury executed before, but before completing the loop my friend levelled out unexpectedly! Holy shit, we were right above it!

I had to take the shot I had been waiting for. So, I did. It was hasty, and it was sloppy, but I did it.

And I hit the dragon.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed when I saw the dragon rear in the air and howl in pain. Unfortunately, I struck it non-lethally. I couldn't quite see where the arrow had hit, but I don't think that nightfury was too happy with me. But all of a sudden it began to rely a lot more on just one of its wings for altitude, using the other to maintain direction. But I still took it as a score. "Oh, hell yeah!" I couldn't even believe I hit it.

As soon as my arrow landed, my dragon unleashed a stream of fire at the wounded nightfury. It wouldn't die that easily, though, nor would a volley of ballistae from the ground bring it down. But that volley sure came close to knocking me out of the sky! It was a good thing my friend was aware enough to swerve, but because of that we lost the altitude advantage over the other dragon.

Hoping to take that for itself, the other dragon started to quickly ascend straight up, fast as high as it could. Ol' Reliable had to strain himself to match it, but luckily one of its wings being apparently arrowshot slowed it enough for us to keep pace. Oh, man, my heart was pounding in my head as we climbed higher and higher. Eventually my heartbeat became louder than the wind.

And that was when trouble struck. Because he was going almost completely straight up, my legs dangled below me instead of gripping my friend's sides. No big deal, I could hang for hours if I had to under normal circumstances, but thanks to the fight mentality I needed more oxygen to keep my body going. I compensated the way everyone would, breathing harder.

That did the oxygen job for a while, but there was less to go around up there, apparently. The higher we climbed the harder breathing got, and the harder breathing got the harder holding on became. I don't care if you're over two meters tall and as brutally built as Geirbjörn, any man or woman can be broken by air deprivation. I was no exception.

I slipped. I fell backwards. I kept my grip on the bow, but not the dragon. The dragons kept on ascending past the clouds and out of my sight while I went the other way. One should think I would have been scared, right? I wasn't. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because I had thought I would die so many times in the past 48 hours that I became desensitized. Or maybe it was because after some seconds of falling I could gasp for air and breathe again. But I certainly didn't expect to be saved.

And yet, my expectations were once more exceeded. After some seconds a black mass popped through the clouds' bottom and began to dive right at me. Whoa! By then I had reached terminal velocity, about 193 kilometers per hour, but the nightfury chasing me was still faster and catching up. However, there was only one nightfury. So, that begged the question, which nightfury was it?

Well, it neither caught me nor ate me when it reached me. It just flew right on past me. I guessed whichever dragon that was, it wouldn't be helping me. Oh, how wrong I was. As that dragon flew beneath me, it spread its wings and aligned them at an angle to keep him from gliding forward, which would force him to fall more slowly than me. It was a good thing for me he didn't just swoop under me to try and catch me without himself falling, because I either would have rolled right off of him or died on impact anyway. But by falling on him while he was falling just slightly slower than I, it was more like being gently laid down on his back than falling on it.

Of course, I didn't manage to flip around in the air. I was still belly-up, and that was how I landed on the dragon. Soon as I could I hugged his sides with my feet and leaned back, but he would have to fly _real_ steady with no fancy maneuvers to keep me there. Oh, well, I was just relieved to have been there. "Oh, _shit!_ Wait until Elíza hears about this!"

Right then the enemy nightfury had its wings folded in like a hawk springing on a mouse to catch us. The bow! Since I wasn't using my hands anyway, I knocked the second arrow. On one hand, I had to fire quickly; if my dragon dodged or counterattacked he would have thrown me. I think he knew that, because he glided forward and kept steady. On the other, if I missed, I would be out of ammunition. So, I wouldn't have been able to attack, and neither would the dragon, making us both sitting ducks. So, I was patient. I waited for it to get closer.

I'm extremely lucky that it was so pissed, probably because it was being betrayed by its own kind. If it was thinking clearly it would have roasted us with a fire shot. But since it wasn't, it kept on descending until it was close enough to bite the tip of my friend's tail. I heard him howl in pain below and behind me, and he probably wasn't too happy with me for letting it happen, but in the end it was for the best. At nearly point-blank range I took aim right between the enemy dragon's eyes... and I fired.

 _Fuck!_ I missed my target high and right! The fact that I hit anything was pure luck. The fact that I hit the joint where the wing met the body was a blessing from the gods. That did more than just make the brute let go. The arrow must have hurt it really bad, because its turn to fall out of the sky then came.

Ironically enough it appeared to rise because unorganized falling was slower than the intentional, technical dive it had been in. To correct that, my dragon flapped a few times and slowed us down so the enemy would fall right past us.

I didn't see the finishing blow because I didn't dare tummy head too far around, and maybe that was a good thing. I didn't really need to. I felt the heat build in my dragon's midsection, and I heard the sizzle when fire met scale and flesh. I got the picture.

I couldn't breathe easy yet, though. There was still the matter of getting back to ground safely. My position was rather precarious, but it only got more so when the surviving dragon bucked in the air and threw me. What the hell? I didn't think he'd just up and kill me - not after all that - but it left me questioning what the heck he was up to.

I got my answer when the dragon flipped around in the air and grabbed at me with his paws. He got my upper arms with his forepaws and clutched them tight. After that he flipped yet again. Now, on one hand, I was now dangling under him and still relying on him completely to not let me fall. On the other, it was a safer way to descend someone was actually holding into somebody. It wasn't the most _fun_ way to descend, mind you, but that wasn't the most important thing.

I was real glad that the dragon made our descent slowly and steadily, circling rather than falling straight down. I didn't think he'd drop me, and it have gave me time to cool down. But damn, the village got levelled. Nightfuries rarely cursed our village, but when they did they caused serious damage... except maybe one, of course. But below me fires raged and families mourned. Bodies burned, and bodies stank.

Away from most of the destruction, the nightfury glided gently and slowly about one-and-a-half meters off the scorched ground and finally let me fall. After that he circled back around and landed right behind me. There was really only one way to thank the dragon who saved my village from complete destruction. "Thanks, félagi." I looked him right in the eye to say that and hugged him around the neck. I wasn't sure how he'd take that, but I guess he didn't feel threatened or sheet of breath because he warbled a bit but didn't struggle.

* * *

 **"** ** _No_** **! Under no circumstances!" Bellowed the chief throughout the hall right after slamming the half-circle table before me with his fist. I'm not sure if he was trying to be emphatic, angry, or intimidating. It doesn't matter, though, because he accomplished nothing.**

"Let me be perfectly clear," I addressed him and his gallery, Geirbjörn among them, "You don't have any choice in the matter."

"Like hell I don't! What's to stop me from ending your life just for that irreverence?"

"You really think the big guy's gonna be okay with that?" I inclined my head toward the shut door behind me, implying the nightfury was back there. "You kill the one human that ever got on a dragon's good side, and either the gods will bring hell to the village... or he will."

"Boy, are you threatening us?"

"I'm _warning_ you," I corrected, "And you'd do better to heed my warning."

Chief Hinrik stood and pointed at me. "We agreed not to kill the dragon today, but now you're pushing your luck and my patience! My father's father's land will _not_ become the roaming grounds of a dragon. Would you defy me, Nikolas?" He sighed. "You had such promise. If only you knew honor in loyalty."

" _Honor in loyalty?_ " I echoed back in a mocking tone, losing my cool quick. "Oh, that is _rich_ coming from you! Honor in backstabbing! Honor in treachery! You beheaded your own father and mother to ascend to your position! You were right to do so, mind you. The pair were warmongers who would have seen us annihilated. Yet here you are, committing their folly. If you fail to make the right decision _now_ , you will end up no better than the man and woman you rightfully struck down!"

Swords and axes were drawn. My own was among them. Among them. I guess Félagi didn't like that sound because he charged the door down behind me and roared his threat to keep back. "See that? That's what a threat sounds like," I remarked like a wise-ass before turning to Félagi. "Not that you're helping. I'm trying real hard to make the case you're not a danger, remember?" He just tilted his head to the side, not understanding me. Oh, well. "Well, chief, it seems this is where we part ways." I bowed respectfully, but mockingly, before turning to leave.

"You'd turn your back on your village and your people for a _dragon?"_ Hinrik roared in rage and indignation.

"Yes." I was by contrast cool, calm, and sure of myself as I climbed on Félagi to make my allegiance clear. I would side with my life saver over those beasts any day. "Any more questions?"

"Where will you go, lad?" That wasn't Hinrik. That was Geirbjörn. And his was of true concern for me.

I shrugged. "No clue. Find another village, I guess. One that knows true loyalty. And Geirbjörn? Do me a favor... Tell Elíza I'm sorry, but she'll have to find another man." Oh, man, that was probably the hardest part of leaving Dregnur. Family? No big deal. They were dead to me after arrows began to fly. Geirbjörn? He was always nice enough to me, but if he wouldn't or couldn't sway Hinrik he was no more good to me. But Elíza, I knew if she had been allowed to attend the discussion she would argue beside me until her tongue was cut out. That's why I didn't let her attend. "And you make sure she does it, too. I would hate having to fly back here just to set her up."

Well... That was it. Looked like I'd have to find a new village. How hard could that be, right? You know, riding in as an outsider on dragonback for a new home... Yeah, I was screwed. Oh, well. "Time to go, Félagi. We're done here."


	4. A whole new world

No village in Iceland would ever take me in. Trying was such a waste of time. Lucky I wasted less time than most thanks to Félagi. I was tempted to think he was the reason it was time wasted, and I almost started believing it when six months' searching and asking around went nowhere. I knew better, though. I was a traitor, so even if my friendship with Félagi didn't disqualify me for Viking citizenship, that sure did.

The good news was, they had no issue with taking a traitor's money. Most villages at least let me stay long enough to stock up on food. I didn't have much to spend when I left but, regrettably, I had to learn that a highwayman could really make a mint if he had a nightfury backing him up. I'm shocked that word of me didn't get around. Maybe it was too hard a story to believe.

You ready for a history lesson? We Icelandic Vikings were a really proud people. Sure, we were settled by our eastern cousins, but the United States of America believes itself superior to its eastern cousins although it was settled by them, no? I use that example to help you understand the attitudes we had, for they almost perfectly mirrored by we Icelandic Vikings.

Here's the issue: my eastern cousins felt the exact same way. Now, when you've got two cultures that both feel superior to each other, you can pretty much forget about diplomatic ties. Especially with Vikings. Now, we didn't know (or care) why, but it meant relations with them were getting worse by the month.

Unfortunately, the east looked like my only option after a good long while. After all, nowhere in Iceland would take me in, and if I flew west I'd just fly right over the edge of the world. The issue with leaving the island was that the sea was a lot harder to traverse than land. Félagi could go for maybe a couple hours with no rest if he didn't push himself, but that wouldn't be enough to cross the water. We couldn't exactly land in the middle of the sea. So, we needed a ship.

Finding a ship was hardly an issue. We were the best seafarers on the planet at the time! There was less than no shortage of ships just lying around. The issue with that was, ships weren't for routine travel and tourism. Viking ships were for moving troops in times of war and conquest, nothing else. Sure, that was a frequent occurrence, but I seemed to come along at the extremely unlucky period in time when nobody was in conflict.

Can you _believe_ that? Nobody was conquering anybody!

That meant I'd either have to pay a captain... or steal a ship. And I guess that was always an option, but stealing was getting less and less fun each time I resorted to it. Besides, I still needed a crew. What was I gonna do, row across the Norwegian Sea - of course they'd name it after themselves - with only Félagi as my first mate? That makes for a hilarious mental image of a nightfury in one of those pirate hats, but it wasn't gonna happen.

Thing is, captains were rather... discriminatory, let's say, when they found out about my cargo. Now, I played it smart. I bound Félagi's mouth with rope, tied his wings to his sides, and led him on a leash, pretending to be selling him to some dragonhide vendor across the sea. As you can imagine, his protests were very realistic and totally sold the image. Probably because they were real. It took me like two hours to get the binds on him! Apparently, though, most captains only felt comfortable transporting dead dragons. Hmmph, cowards. It looked like I was really the one in a bind.

Good thing I knew how to lie! "No cargo," I told the last captain on my search, "Just a passenger. Ask no questions, and I'll see to it your pockets become so fat and heavy you'd sink any ship you stepped on."

"What are you, some lord's brat?" the captain asked me.

To that I retorted, "Oh, a question, eh? I guess I'll have to knock a thousand off your fee for that. Keep that up and I'll find another man who can be more easily swayed by gold." Yeah, right! A thousand pieces was about all I had on me, almost all of it ill-gotten. I tried to bluff and held up my entire coin purse over the captain's head. "Tell you what: let's say you get this now, and the other four parts will be yours once we reach landfall. Hopefully the sight of gold will keep you quiet more easily than the mere promise of it. Do we have a deal?"

Anyone would be suspicious with a transaction like that on the table. There was no getting around that I was a criminal, and the captain surely knew that, too. He probably thought I was a very notorious type, though, whose boys would exact swift vengeance on anybody who dared compose himself as anything other than cooperative. So, maybe he feared those consequences. Or maybe he liked the idea of a big payday and the ability to plead ignorance to transporting someone of my high status when they arrested him for it later. Oh, well, I didn't care what the story was. All I cared was that his decision was, "Aye. We set off at the crack of dawn two days from now. If you're late, I'm leaving without you and keeping your investment!"

For the first time in months I was able to sleep in a bed that I didn't bring along with me. Unfortunately, Félagi couldn't accompany me into the town. Ironically enough, though, I wasn't worried about him flying off never to be seen again... although that would have sucked, seeing as he was the whole reason I was on this crazy refugee expedition. Still, when you spend six months with one person and one person only, you learn about them whether you love them or hate them.

"Person" might seem like a strong word, but I stand by it. Félagi was intelligent, I swear to gods. I didn't always know that he understood what I said, but Félagi always understood what I thought and what I felt. I think he learned how to "hug" from me after a while: after each disappointment I'd feel more and more dejected, and after a while he'd just wait outside the given settlement for my return with a wing already extended, ready to envelop me in it.

This brings me to my second assertion: Félagi could feel. And I don't just mean hunger and thirst, not even just happy or angry either. I'm talking compassion, depression, empathy, even respect for others. He demonstrated that by, well, not killing anyone and everyone he came across, I guess. Sure, not everyone gave into the demands of a highwayman, but the few times a man would rather show me his sword than his purse, Félagi had the smarts to stick with his teeth and claws rather than incinerate them and all the money they carried with them. Which just reemphasizes my intelligence belief.

At some points, though I found myself wondering how long Félagi would stick around. Tose points were usually when I was out of money and out of food, forcing Félagi to feed us both. At those times I was no good to him. But, well, that was just it. He fed us, not just him. And I didn't just eat his leftovers. Sure, he ate first - he deserved it - but once he was done with his kills he'd still let me ride his back while he killed again, and when he considered it my turn to eat he wouldn't even touch the meat.

I thought I could go my whole life eating bear meat. It apparently tastes much better charred, and it's way easier to get that way, too.

So, what kept Félagi around? It sure as hell wasn't the food and living conditions. That leash sure wouldn't have held him forever, either. The only explanation was that he valued my friendship as much as I valued his. And that really filled my heart, you know what I mean?

Alright, so my plan for getting to Norway was going to get very messy if it didn't go exactly right. And by messy I mean, you know, bloody. As soon as the ship was out of the sight of the coastline, Félagi knew it was his cue to take off and follow. A couple short minutes later, bam, there he was ready to be a wonderful diversion. "Dragon!" became the one word bellowed by every crewman on the ship. Lucky I was smart enough to be on the top deck at that time, because I had to act quickly. Men were scrambling for bows.

So, I took the captain unawares. Held my blade to his throat. And I commanded, "Hold your fire! Hit or miss, if one arrow becomes airborne, your captain will wake up in Hel!" A couple of bows hit the ground right then, but not nearly enough. "Order them to drop their weapons!" I hissed at my captive.

"Are you mad, lad?" the captain held defiant. "Or are you blind to the dragon overhead?"

I anticipated something like that. So with one hand - luckily the captain didn't try to struggle because my sword was still on his throat - I reached for a slab of cow meat from my pack. I whistled, and Félagi flew low and right overhead. I was a little panicked that an archer would take the easy shot, but either fear or curiosity stood their hands. As the nightfury flew over I threw the meat up, and he caught it in his mouth and ate it. "This dragon will harm no man so long as I do not order it. Now, _Captain_ , you have two choices. You may issue a kill order. When you do, I will do the same, and while you and your men will find themselves murdered, I'll simply be carried back to the mainland to hire another captain and start the cycle over again. But that doesn't have to be so. If your men drop their bows - and their swords, too, while they're at it - then the dragon will land on this ship to rest his tired wings peacefully... and that will be the end of it. No man, or dragon, need die, and when we arrive, you'll be compensated proportionally to the unusual circumstances, just as I promised. However, I'm losing my patience. Give the order, and let us all go on with our lives!"

I wasn't fool enough to believe it would be that easy, and I was right. It took a good long while of thinking about whether he preferred life and coin or honor and dignity. It was no shock that he chose what all humans care about. "Throw the weapons overboard, lads," he reluctantly barked. Only then did those who remained throw their bows over into the water.

"Swords, too!" I reminded them, though I think most just hoped I'd forget. Either way, at least the crew was finally disarmed. So, I whistled for Félagi's attention again and beckoned for him, letting him know he could land. The ship swayed a lot when his weight was added to it, and the crewmen gave him a very wide berth once he chose his spot to curl up in. "Well, if you give me no more trouble, we may just part as friends," I promised the captain after I sheathed my own weapon.

The other men were fearful as seal cubs in the midst of a polar bear, but I walked right up to Félagi fearlessly and scratched his head all over as praise for a job well done. "Give him no trouble, and you'll hardly notice he's here. But I can't take responsibility for the life of any man who tries to strike him down in his sleep. Very keen hearing, you know? So leave him be, and this'll be just another voyage like you've run countless times. Ship's all yours, captain!"

And that's the story of how I pirated a Viking ship.

The story of what happened after that is _way_ more interesting, though. The ship ended up coming to port in the town of Hildegard. Crap, I hadn't really considered that: getting Félagi on the boat was apparently the easy part. The real tough question once I saw the smoke rising from chimneys then became, how was I going to get Félagi _off_ the ship without causing a whole panic?

I wasn't, I thought. So my escape would have to be quick. As we slid into port I mounted Félagi and advised him, "Be ready to fly. We might have to dodge some arrows again..." He huffed and crouched, wings unfolded slightly. He was ready to take off. But as dock workers pulled the boat into pier they acted totally nonchalant about a dragon being one of the passengers. They hardly even looked at us! And because of that I have them really funny looks. People who weren't scared of dragons? Even I still cringed a bit when another dragon got a little too close.

Yet the gangplank was extended, though Félagi preferred to jump to the dock rather than walk that narrow gangplank, and all Hel didn't break loose. The dock workers just went on doing... I dunno. Dregnur wasn't on the water. They did dock worker stuff! It was crazy! Félagi was just carryin me down the length of the dock, and nobody gave a shit! Boy, how ironic that it was me and Félagi giving everyone else crazy looks instead of the other way around for a change.

"Hey!" Oh, look. There was the captain chasing after me. "Boy, you owe me 4,000 pieces, you little brat!" After a declaration like that, watching him cringe when Félagi turned around was extremely satisfying.

I tilted my head to the side and pretended to be confused. "I don't know what you're talking about! But after putting up with your bad attitude the last couple of weeks, you're not gonna get so much as a compliment out of me! And bring extra rations in case you end up carrying any more 'unusual' cargo!"

I'm glad he wasn't stupid enough to follow and cause a fight. But as we left the docks and merged with the streets it was like a whole nother world. People gave me looks riding Félagi that lasted no longer than the look you give a passing horse rider. Even Félagi seemed confused by the lack of commotion as he kept on looking about curiously. "What... The hell...?"

I hopped off Félagi since it didn't seem like we would have to make a quick escape. I still stood next to him, though, one hand on his flank. I was still tense. And when I started getting funny looks at long last, it was probably only because I was acting so suspiciously.

Félagi and I wandered for hours searching for something like an inn, and my hand never left his side. Sure, I was low (okay, out) on cash to pay for a room, but I was hoping a little begging would get me one night's stay on the floor. It wasn't long before a great flaw in my plan to travel east became quite apparent: the language barrier.

I couldn't read the few signs I came across, and few had telltale graphics about what they were for, such as an anvil to mark a blacksmithy. But there was one sign that intrigued me: one with no words but the graphic of a dragon. Now this I had to see! So I asked Félagi, "Wait outside, please. I'll be as quick as I can," before I opened up and walked inside. It was a good thing the doors had windows through which I could see my friend, else I might have been too paranoid to walk in.

The lady clerk greeted me heartily in less than no time, but that's all I know about what she said. But luckily after I fumbled with telling her I couldn't understand what she said, she said to me in Icelandic, "No problem! We get you guys all the time, though you almost never come in here." Phew, man was that a relief!

I thought the place was some sort of riding shop when a row of saddles along the wall caught my eye. They were like no saddles I had ever seen before, though. They were way longer flatter, more like just a leather pad. "Are Norwegian horses so fat and long that they could wear a saddle like this, or are Norwegian horsemen so lazy they can't be bothered to sit upright?"

Hey, inserting a bit of a put down was not only called for considering the insult my people had bared from hers, but she probably expected it. I'd even go further to suggest she would have been disappointed if she didn't hear it, since she smirked. "I understand your kind are living in the past, so you can be forgiven for not recognizing a dragon saddle when you see one."

I dropped the saddle I had been eyeing curiously and whipped around, mouth gaping open. That was a joke, right? "Did you just say 'dragon saddle?'" I asked incredulously, "Like... For riding dragons?"

"I don't know why you're so surprised," remarked the clerk, "That's your dragon out there, isn't it?" She pointed to Félagi, who, while he hadn't moved, was getting very annoyed with some small children trying to get too close to him. Even after snapping, they refused to run off until one's hand actually got bit. I was appalled, and I thought I had to run out there, but the shop clerk went on, "Stupid kids. They should know better than to get too friendly with an unfamiliar dragon."

What kind of crazy world had I stepped into? My eyes darted around to all the other goods for sale. Dragon feed, dragon reigns, dragon claw clippers, dragon scale shiner, dragon, dragon, dragon! "Crazy..." I thought aloud but under my breath. "Uh, I don't have the money to buy anything here. Could you point me to the nearest inn?"

The clerk couldn't kick me out fast enough.

But at least I got directions to an inn. "Talar þú íslensku?" I asked the barman, hoping to find out if he spoke my language.

"Já."

"I need a bed for the one night. Cheapest room you got. And, uh..." I couldn't believe I was about to ask this. "Is there a place where my... Dragon... Could bed as well?"

"Absolutely!" he affirmed to my half-surprise. "Just behind the building, the barn will be plenty large and comfortable for your scaly companion." Even though there was no window I still leaned back and looked in the direction.

"You know what? I changed my mind. Just let my dragon sleep in your barn tonight, and I'll make other arrangements." I thought that would be cheaper. Yeah, I could have stolen my way again, but I didn't want to be chased out yet again when I was trying to make a new start. I thought I would be, though, when I went on, "And... Do you think I could work off my debt?"

He couldn't kick me out fast enough either.

"No wonder nobody likes Norwegians, greedy bastards," I pessimistically joked with Félagi. It looked like I wouldn't be getting far without coin. If I was going to get coin without being arrested, killed, or chased off, I'd have to work for it. So I wandered back into the inn and ignored the protests of the innkeeper.

Oh, that figured. All the postings on the bulletin board were in Norwegian. There was only one that I could read any of, and I had to use the pictures in order to make some inferences. They were all of dragons, all flying, some with human riders. It was official: this place was dragon crazy.

Now, I barely spoke any Norwegian, but I became _slightly_ more proficient in English when a party of Brits came to trade. They left after a year, probably because they were unprofitable, but I guess one or two words stuck around on my head. So, between that prior knowledge and all the pictures, there was just enough information for me to take a guess at what the bulletin was advertising.

 **DRAGEN RASE**

"Hey, Félagi!" I called out the door that I left open, "Do you think you're a faster flier than every other dragon in Hildegard?"


End file.
